Week One
by face70
Summary: Comment Prompt by lennelle: Sam's first week at Stanford, experiencing the culture-shock of civilian life. Fill for Birthday Meme for Sammy! - OhSam LiveJournal


Birthday Meme for Sammy! - OhSam LiveJournal

 **Comment Prompt by lennelle:**  
Sam's first week at Stanford, experiencing the culture-shock of civilian life.

* * *

 _ **Monday – Orientation**_

Crammed into the tiny seat in the massive lecture hall, Sam struggled to listen. It was packed, shoulder to shoulder (in his case) and no better than the fourteen-hour bus ride he'd taken four days ago.

He'd had two full days to move into his dorm. 'Settle in and get situated' time.

It took him three minutes and change to unpack.

Playing the waiting game on the weekend was awkward. He spent half of it watching Brady, his new roommate, move in with the help of his younger brother and parents.

Saturday night, around 4 am when Brady finally stumbled back from the party he'd snuck into, he passed over the salt line no problem. He passed Sam's other 'tests' too.

Just a normal guy with a normal family. Joe College sleeping in the bed across from his, no gun stuffed under his pillow and no knife tucked under the bed.

Sam didn't sleep Saturday night.

And he didn't make up for it Sunday night, either.

The hall really was massive, more packed on this early Monday morning than he'd expected. He sat in a sea of fresh-faced freshmen, half with eager smiles and some with rings under their eyes from partying two nights straight and struggling grasp what the monotone voice was droning on about.

Statistically, one of these people had to know. One of them had to at least _suspect_ that there were things out there. In the dark.

Sam gripped his coffee tight. I was already cool in his hand.

Statistically, that one was probably him.

Sam tensed when the crowed moved in a great wave, the mass of students flooding into the aisles. He watched them all pass by, chattering and laughing and light.

It wasn't like he hadn't been around civilians before. Their job – his _family's_ job required it.

Always from the outside looking in, though. Reporters. A 'student' researching for a paper. A federal agent with the young intern (in his brother's case).

They were never part of 'them.' Part of the crowd.

But now he was.

"Yeah, that's him."

He tensed again, eyes searching and landing on Brady who stared right back with a grin. Two other guys flanked him on either side, one big in a vaguely threatening way, the other big in a less threatening way.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, fingers curling around the hilt of his switchblade as the trio walked up.

"Heya, Sammy! Guys, this is him. Fuckin' giant, am I right?"

"Sam," he corrected with a nod.

"Nick."

"John," the heavier one offered with a smile. "I went to high school with Brady. Nick's my roommate. Damn, dude. You really are tall."

Sam let go of the knife in his pocket.

"Yeah."

"So, hey, look man. I know – I mean it's been a little weird, right?"

Sam looked back to Brady.

"This whole living with a stranger thing? So, hey, so we're hitting up a party tonight. Wanted to see if you wanna come. Shoulda asked you that first night, dude. Sorry about that."

"It's fine."

"Cool. Yeah, cool, so you in?"

Sam shook his head.

"You sure?" Brady asked. He looked disappointed.

Sam wanted normal. Brady, Nick – John? They had "normal" in spades.

 _Suck it up, Sam._

"I uh. You sure I'm not butting in or anything?"

Brady lit up, "Definitely not! What's a few beers between roommates, right?"

Nick and John exchanged a nod in agreement.

"Cool," Brady added, "We're gonna head out tonight, so we'll swing by the dorm?" Sam nodded. "See ya!"

His very first college party.

His first _party_ period.

 _Damn, Sammy. Poppin' that college cherry already? That's my boy!_

Sam's small smile faded, his brother's voice ghosting in the back of his head. He pulled out his phone, turned it on for the first time in days.

The time looked up at him, black text in a yellow glow.

No missed calls.

 _ **Monday Night – The Frat**_

"Alpha Sigma… Epsil..Episo… Anyway, dude!"

"I'm a legacy!"

"What? Bro!"

Sam watched Nick and the other guy, Chad (or something) bump chests, beer spilling out over the rim of their solo cups. One of them had lost a flip flop earlier. The floor was suspiciously sticky. Probably from years of jungle juice – he hoped.

"I remember my first beer."

Sam knit his brows and glanced over to Brady, red faced and smirking up at him. "Just playin' – you havin' fun, man? Seriously, you just on number one there?" He bumped Sam's can of icehouse with his cup. "First big party of the year, man, go nuts."

He slung an arm around Sam's shoulder, apparently a little too blitzed to notice just how statuesque his new roomie had gone. Brady squinted and scanned the room, snorting in annoyance. "Fuckin' sausage fest, man. I know they invited some chicks, but fuck – it's still early. This place? Like number one – I'm tellin' you, man, invited those Alpha Phi chicks?" he whistled, "Hot as shit – least, Tommy always said so."

Sam cleared his throat. "Tommy?"

Brady seemed to just notice him again and nodded, jerking Sam a little with the motion. "My big bro. Graduated last year. Dick."

"Oh."

Brady pulled back, seeming to sober a little, and sized Sam up with a laugh "You're so serious, man. Pre..uh. Pre-med, right?"

"Pre-law."

Brady poked him in the chest, "That explains it. Smart fucker."

"Everyone get down!" a voice shouted, booming over the music. Heads snapped in the direction of someone bursting through the door, slamming it shut behind him and wildly waving his arms.

"Shit!"

Brady hit the deck – most of the guys hit the deck, half of them turning tail and booking it into the rooms or taking a knee.

Sam's heart was in his throat. He didn't have his gun. He didn't bring any weapons except his knife because it was normal. It was _safe_ and now –

He tore through the crowd, weaving through the frat toward the door, only the small knife in his hand, Brady's cry of "Sam!" muffled by the swears and chatter filling the hall.

He locked onto the door, something behind it pounding once, twice, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears over the music.

And then –

The door burst open, two big guys leading a parade of petite, excited, scantily clad college girls who shrieked in delighted surprise when a wave of muscle leapt up from the ground and hooted at them.

"You assholes!" one of them cried, breaking into laughter.

"You scared us! What the hell, Nick, Jesus!"

"Dude, what the fuck, is that a knife?"

Sam looked to his right, a wide-eyed blond in a backward baseball hat staring up at him.

"Cell phone," he answered stupidly, shoving the blade in his pocket. He elbowed his way out of the hall, out the door, out of the party, the scent of spilled beer on his jeans.

 _ **Tuesday – PSYCH 1: Introduction to Psychology**_

Sam slept in.

Well, not really. Not normal sleeping in, but he slept past 0700. So yeah, he slept in.

Still, he was up before Brady who walked in sometime around ten after, shot him a grin, and passed out face first on his bed.

A little before 0830, Sam sat down inside his first classroom. He set his coffee on the desk, pulled his laptop from his bag and opened it.

And stared, hard, at the screen.

A headline stared back at him, the huge letters black and bold and accusing.

 _MISSING MAN FOUND IN MISSION RESERVOIR._

The case they'd been working on last week, Thursday night, when Sam finally dropped the bomb.

He waited too long, he knew he did. He also knew that if they found out sooner, dad would've…

Sam slammed the laptop shut and glared at it.

"Woah!"

He glanced up, startled.

It was a girl looking down at him, brows raised and lips curled in amusement. Her long, blonde hair was pulled back, blue eyes squinting as she laughed. "Technical issues?"

"Hey!"

The girl looked over to another, a brunette waving excitedly at her. She gave Sam a grin, turned and walked off.

 _ **Tuesday – Dining Hall**_

Full-ride scholarship – give or take a few specifics.

Classes, check. Room, check.

Board?

Somehow, he'd missed that part. Something about family and slamming doors and thousand-mile bus rides maybe.

Sam looked at the pathetic salad on his tray. The cashier had given him a bitch face that'd rival his own when he had to scoop half of it back into the bins after weighing it for a grand total of thirteen dollars. Seriously? A thirteen-dollar salad?

He'd make do with his four-dollar lunch. All three leaves and one tomato slice of it.

Okay, exaggerating. But still, he hadn't been expecting that. He was gonna need cash. He'd figure it out later.

Sam poked at his dinner, eyes drifting again and again to his phone sat beside the plate.

Quiet and still. He flipped it open just to – yeah. Full battery.

"I'm serious, it was so scary."

He tuned in out of habit.

"Oh my God, seriously? Did they find him?"

"No. Like… I don't think so. But seriously!"

"What a freak."

"I know, right? Who brings a knife to a party?"

Sam grabbed his tray, dumped it, and left.

 _ **Wednesday – HUMCORE 11: Humanities 101 – American Folklore**_

"Have you ever heard of the Jersey Devil?"

 _Yes._

"The Chupacabra of the Conquistadors?"

 _Yes._

"How about the Flatwoods Monsters?"

 _We took out three._

The professor gestured at the crowd of students staring blankly back at him, smiling wide and excited and _patronizing_. "These are the legends of America. These are the things that go bump in the night, that haunt the backwoods and the alleys from the Rockies to the Appalachians. These are the backbone of American culture."

Sam heard a groan beside him. _Yeah, you and me both._

"We're going to dive into these legends head first, so I hope you're all ready for plenty of reading. I trust you have the required materials?"

Sam looked at the text book on his desk. A hodgepodge of half-assed research shoved together with little more than a page to a myth. It was vague, half the information was wrong, and-

"-the midterm exam is worth forty-percent. I highly encourage you all familiarize yourselves with the material."

 _ **Wednesday – The Dorm**_

"First week and you're actually reading? Damn, Sammy, I wish I had your dedication."

"It's Sam."

Brady huffed out a laugh from where he sat on his bed and shook his head. "Yeah, my bad. But seriously, dude. That thing looks like its pissing you off."

Sure enough, Sam'd been glaring at the same page about wendigo's for a good twenty minutes. It was wrong, it was so freaking wrong and he hoped to God no one ever used this kind of stupid book on a hunt. They'd be dead before they could blink.

Normal. _Normal. Normal people don't hunt, they don't need to know how to gank a wendigo._

"Hey, so, lost you at the party the other night. You have a good time?"

"Yeah. It was fun, thanks for the invite."

"You get any?"

Sam turned a little, brow raised. "Get any what?"

Brady shook his head, incredulous. "Ass, Sam. You get laid?"

"What? No." He waited a beat. "Did you?"

Brady waggled his brows then shrugged. "I'm grabbin' a shower. There's another party Friday night if you're interested."

"Maybe," Sam said. He watched the blond grab his things then disappear out the door.

He closed the book, done with it for the night, and sat on his bed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, flipped it open.

21:28. No missed calls.

 _ **Wednesday – The Dorm**_

"-weren't kidding. Hottest girls I've ever seen … what? No. No, man, I mean I guess I could, but rushing sounds like shit."

It was quiet, dark when Sam peeled open one eye. Late, probably. The soft, tinny murmurs of someone on the other end fizzled out of Brady's phone.

"Yea, maybe," Sam's roommate said, keeping his voice respectfully quiet – more or less. "Yeah. Same dorm, I – yeah, just one. I didn't get screwed with three roommates like you did."

Sam heard a fuzzy laugh on the other line. Brady's brother, probably.

"We're cool – he's kinda - … yeah. Smart dude. No murdery vibe," Brady joked and continued, "…weird, though. Super serious."

Sam closed his eyes. Brady hung up five minutes later, passed out ten after that. Sam stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

 _ **Thursday – Dining Hall**_

Sam stared at the empty plate still hungry. He had quarter left.

He carried his tray away and dumped it. He turned, the cafeteria still full of people even though it was getting late. He spied Nick in the distance, a little surprised since he'd never run into anyone here yet.

The big guy was in a group with a few other big guys, all of them looking like they just got done at a gym. A few girls sat at the table.

The blonde girl was there, laughing and smiling and shaking her head at something someone said.

They caught eyes, just for a second because Sam, idiot that he was, just stared like some kind of backyard stalker.

But…she smiled. Brief, he if he blinked he'd miss it, and then she looked away.

Sam turned and walked out, forgetting the growl in his stomach.

 _ **Friday – Outside Room 303**_

Sam stood in the hall and scoured the boards just outside the class. Bulletin boards, old school and a little less easy to navigate than the internet, but local and specific.

He needed a job – and soon. Breakfast had been a protein bar, a crappy one at that, and a cup of tap water.

And dinner might be ramen if he could snag an extra quarter buried in his duffle bag somewhere.

The class was moving through the halls just at the tail end of their political science course. All of it was introductory, some of it was boring (like that stupid humanities class) but most of it was amazing.

These people, these professors, were brilliant. They were smart and articulate and polished. Studied and worldly.

It was bizarre to think they'd laugh at anyone who believed in ghosts.

Sam looked between the two job postings. One was for a librarian assistant the other for overnight janitorial services. Two things Sam had some experience in. He plucked the numbers for both, stuffed them in his pocket, and headed for the library to get some studying in.

 _ **Friday – The Quad**_

It started raining before Brady left for the party. Sam walked with him halfway, but the parted at the big patch of green. There was more studying to be done and after how well the first party went … Sam'd try again. Later.

He watched Brady's retreating figure down the path, a few others joining up with him along the way until they rounded the corner. It was dark already, after sunset and the soft buzz of lights and the tink of rain blended in with laughter and chatter of passersby.

Sam turned, started to make his way back and lurched when the strap of his backpack ripped clean in half.

It was old, over a decade. He should've expected it.

Sam stared down at the sad, brown bag, getting wet with rain. He hadn't zipped it all the way and some of the contents fell out. Calculator, of course. Notepad. Of course.

And there, peeking out, a photo. Old, a little worn, but two smiling faces staring back up at him.

Sam stuffed his things back in his bag and slung the good strap over his shoulder. He kept the photo out, watched a drop or two of rain trickle down the glossy surface.

He turned it over, messy blotted ink on the back.

 _I'm proud of you._

His phone buzzed in his pocket.


End file.
